


Heartbreak

by Roxirin



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: (maybe), Angst, Class Differences, Class Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Gay, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roxirin/pseuds/Roxirin
Summary: For Carlyle, discovering he liked men had never been easy. And for Barnum, going out with someone from the upper class wasn't easy, either. It was all bound to go up in flames at some point.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> "Wow Rin, what a creative title." WELL there were no suggestions from the server when I asked for some, so that's what we're going with. This is angsty, a little violent, period-typical, and really rather depressing for most of it. Expect the ending two parts or so to be better. Maybe just the last one, I haven't really decided yet XD

It all started (as many stories start) with a kiss... or at least, the beginnings of one.

  
The ringmaster and his partner in limelight stood inches apart, neither of them quite daring to move for the seemingly endless moment as their eyes met. P.T Barnum and Phillip Carlyle had been seeing each other for a little while now, a few weeks or so. Their circus family was overjoyed, of course: Lettie grinned any time she saw them together, Anne teased playfully, and for a while, all was well and the two were content to hold hands and lean on each other and do other couple-ish things. Barnum, on his part, seemed even more cheerful than usual, but it was about two weeks in that he started noticing things.

  
Phillip wouldn't hold his hand in public. Which, _fair enough_ , he thought. _After all, there'd been quite enough public scandal on both their ends and they didn't need the questions directed towards their love lives as well._

  
Phillip would often suddenly move away from Barnum's side if someone entered the room, even though it was always one of the circus troop anyway, and they certainly didn't mind. The third time he did it, Phineas brought it up, and Phillip glanced away, scratching the back of his neck and avoidiing eye contact. "Oh, heh, sorry. Force of habit."

  
It was only little things like that, but it was enough to plant just the tiniest seed of doubt in P.T's mind. He wasn't deliberately trying to be forward with Phil; in fact, he was restraining himself for exactly that reason. They needed to take this slow. Neither of them had been with another man before and both of them stood to get in a lot of trouble if anything got out about their relationship being 'partners' with quite another meaning.

  
Hence, when they were alone after a show, and Barnum found himself inches from Phillip's face, he hesitated, and searched the younger man's eyes for an answer. Phillip's gaze held no doubt (not that he could see), and he didn't attempt to pull away when Barnum looped one arm around his waist and pulled him closer, nor when the older man leant closer until the inches became millimeters.

  
The resistance came when Barnum went to kiss him.

  
Their lips hadn't even touched, and Phin suddenly found himself tilting slightly off-balance as Phillip jerked away from him, an uneasy sort of panic in his eyes. This was immediately followed up by a intense stinging sensation across the right side of Barnum's face, and he could only assume that Phillip had just slapped him, hard. He was more focused on Phil's eyes up until that point, full of sudden regret and.... _fear._

  
Phineas brought one hand up to rub his cheek and stared at Phillip in shock. "Did you just-"

  
"I don't... I don't want-"

  
Carlyle hadn't even finished his sentence when Phin's gaze stopped him in his tracks. The ringmaster's eyes, usually that deep, warm hazelnut, had darkened to something he wasn't sure he wanted to describe. Hurt. The beginnings of anger. Neither of them spoke for what felt like an eternity, and Phillip was just going to apologize when Barnum said something, and it was so quiet he nearly missed it.

  
"I see how it is."

  
"Phin, I'm sorry, I just-"

  
"No. You... you set this up just to rub it in my face, didn't you, rich boy?" Barnum's mind was working overtime, trying to piece together what was going on. The way Phillip wouldn't hold his hand. The way he would pull away from him in someone else's presence. The slap that made him feel all at once like the tailor's boy again, receiving punishment for bringing joy, if only for a brief moment, into someone's life. Of course. Phillip Carlyle would never be seen with someone as lowly as him. Barnum had the illusion of upper-class, but they all knew he would always be labelled as part of the 'common folk', from the moment he called the circus and all its inhabitants his home and his family. The realization struck him deep and raw, the residual sting from the slap rubbing salt in the wound.

  
"I- what?" Phillip was taken aback and his brow creased in his concern.

  
"I should have seen the signs," Phineas seemed to internalize his anger, and Phillip saw in him for a second the broken man after his whole world had gone up in flames. "Of course, I should never have expected anything but backhanded behavior from you anyway. You elitist snobs are all the same."

  
The sting of Phineas's words left Phillip more confused than ever, and he went to put a reasoning hand on Barnum's shoulder, only to have the other shove him away. "Don't touch me. I'm surprised you even want to. After all, you barely did before."

  
_"Phin-"_

  
"Get out."

  
Carlyle knew that tone of voice. He'd heard it at the after-party of Miss Lind's first performance, when Barnum's wounded pride had gotten the better of him and he'd banished Charity's parents from the celebrations.   
"Get out, and don't come back. We don't need your kind around here."

  
In another timeline Phillip might have pointed out the irony of those words, but the dark look in Phineas's eyes forbade him to speak at all. Trying to stay composed, Phillip walked past Barnum in silence to pick up his scarf and his hat, and then walked out, leaving the door open.   
  
A draught crept in, chilling P.T to the bone, but through the hot tears that threatened to fall in burning trails down his reddened cheek, he couldn't feel it. 


	2. Part 2

The Carlyle family home was a rather imposing affair, situated on a hillock overlooking the upper-class part of the city. Gravel crunched underfoot as Phillip strode up the drive, and he was surprised when his tentative knock on the front door was met with a response, as he hadn't expected anyone to be up at this hour.

  
The door opened, and his mother's face appeared, looking a little bleary, through whatever tiredness she may have been feeling was replaced by a deep look of concern as she took in her son's windswept appearance and the way his eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been crying. At once, she seemed to remember that Phillip had abandoned them and disgraced the family name in order to run off and join the circus, and her gaze hardened a little, but he looked up at her with such a broken and helpless expression that she couldn't find it in her heart to leave him out in the cold. "Come in. But for god's sake be quiet. Your father would not be so forgiving to find you here after what you've done." She chided, and he stepped in and closed the door silently behind him, his gaze fixed intently on the floor tiles.

  
"Well?" Mrs Carlyle asked, in that soft but demanding tone that made Phillip feel about five years old. "What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

  
Phillip's voice cracked. "I-I'm sorry, I've brought shame upon our family and I should never have done what I did. And..."

  
"And....?"

  
"And you were right."

  
Mrs Carlyle hadn't actually been expecting that last bit, and pursed her lips slightly in a questioning manner. "Phillip, what are you talking about?"

  
"...You were right. About Barnum. He... he's just a prideful, spiteful man and he-" Phillip cut himself short immediately, the emotion in his voice having already given away far too much. Mrs Carlyle narrowed her eyes.

  
"Phillip... what happened? What did that deceitful man do to you..?"

  
In Phillip's mind, he was a young child again, coming to mummy with a bruise on his arm, afraid that she'd scold him even though he's done nothing wrong. But she was still his mother, and there had once been some form of love between them, and the concern in her voice sounded genuine enough that for a moment he actually wanted her to hold him in her arms, to make him feel safe and loved, like a mother should do.

  
"He tried to... to kiss me."

  
Mrs Carlyle shrieked loud enough for half the household to hear and put both hands over her mouth, her face a mask of horror. So much for being quiet. "Oh, Phillip, of all the things-! You didn't.." Her voice had gone very serious and Phillip was quick to explain. "I didn't want to, not like.....and he.." He was on the verge of tears again, and he kicked himself internally for not phrasing it better. It wasn't like Barnum had tried to _rape_ him, or anything. But there was a side of the story he could never tell, not to most people, and that meant painting Phineas out to be the villain far more than he'd meant to.

  
"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" After all these years, Phillip couldn't stop himself from flinching just slightly as she moved to touch him, grasping his chin and turning his face to check for any signs of what might have been, sweeping her gaze up and down his form. She'd always been his favourite of the two. Unlike Mr. Carlyle, who emotionally distanced himself from his son and never once seemed concerned for his well-being, Mrs Carlyle still had some humanity about her, and even if her concern for him was superficial, it felt somewhat real.

  
After finding no marks to fret over, she stood back.

  
"I slapped him." Phillip admitted, before quite realising that he was even speaking. Shit.

  
"Oh, what a wicked, wicked man! I always knew he was trouble. But such... such _perversion_ , such obscene acts, that is simply-"

  
"Evelyn? What on earth is all this commotion?"

  
The sound of his father's voice made Phillip flighty and just a *little* sick, and he couldn't bear to look up as he heard those horribly familiar footsteps coming down the stairs.

  
"...Phillip?!"

  
That voice speaking his name hit him like a sledgehammer and for a moment he was genuinely tempted to run back to the circus. He'd almost forgotten how much _power_ that tone held over him. He stared harder at his shoes.

  
  
"Look at me when I address you, boy!"

  
"Y-yes, sir." He hoped the quaver in his own voice wasn't too apparent, and looked up, though he couldn't quite look his father in the eye.

  
"You'd better have a very good reason for showing your face again in this household, Phillip." He could hear the barely-concealed anger behind those words. Mr Carlyle started down at his son, and Phillip was unable to stare back.   
"I, yes, I-"

  
"Oh, but Robert, dear, it was that awful Barnum man!" To Phillip's complete surprise, his mother came to the rescue. "Do you know what he did? He tried to kiss him! _Kiss him!_ It's absolutely unbearable to think about. Simply disgusting. I believe," Mrs Carlyle's tone of voice became a little more wheedling, and suddenly she didn't sound like a protective mother, but a snake, hissing sweet lies into the ears of the unwary. "that now Phillip has discovered what that wretched man is _really_ like, he has realised where his place truly lies. Isn't that right, Phillip dear?"

  
Phillip wanted to be sick. "Yes, mother."

  
"I see." Mr Carlyle's voice was strangely calm. "In that case..."

  
He'd been expecting it, but that didn't make it hurt less. Mrs Carlyle didn't move as her husband hit her son, not even as the latter staggered backwards, both hands over his mouth, nor as the trickle of blood from his split lip ran down his chin and stained the collar of his shirt.

  
_"I never want to hear another word about any of this. The circus, your pathetic notions of grandeur, that bastard P.T Barnum, none of it. Do you understand?"_

  
"Yes, sir."

  
"Good."

  
Mr Carlyle straightened up a little and turned around, beginning to head back up the stairs. "Go and clean yourself up. We'll discuss your punishment for your actions in the morning. Evelyn, come."   
Mrs Carlyle cast a glance at her son and then followed Mr Carlyle back to bed.

  
Phillip stood motionless in the hall, the tang of blood fresh on his tongue. Barnum's words had hurt more. But what did that matter?

  
With a quiet sigh, Phillip Carlyle pulled his scarf off and went to the kitchen to nurse his wounds. 


End file.
